


Leaves the Whole World Blind

by LullabyKnell



Series: Lullabyknell's TDP Fics [2]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Ableism, Ableist Language, All Magic Comes With a Price, Alternate Character Interpretation, Alternate Universe - Canon, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Book 2: Sky (The Dragon Prince), Brother-Sister Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Childhood Memories, Consequences, Family Feels, Family Issues, Flashbacks, Gen, Headcanon, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Introspection, Light Angst, Missing Scene, Non-Linear Narrative, One Shot, Overworking, POV Alternating, POV Claudia (The Dragon Prince), POV Soren (The Dragon Prince), POV Third Person Limited, Pre-Canon, Relationship Study, Season/Series 02, Self-Sacrifice, Sibling Love, Siblings, Side Effects, The Dragon Prince Headcanons, Time Skips, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 14:04:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19111186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LullabyKnell/pseuds/LullabyKnell
Summary: "But the first time that Soren holds a real sword in his hands, with the knowledge that this sword ishissword? His sword to use and keep and look after? To the kid that he is, it feels like being given everything he’s ever wanted. It feels like this is where his life as a warrior really begins. It feels like holding the beginning of the rest of his life."~ Soren and Claudia grow up expecting to save the kingdom someday. Character/relationship study. Spoilers to S2.





	Leaves the Whole World Blind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Prim_the_Amazing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prim_the_Amazing/gifts).



> This was written for Prim_the_Amazing as part of FTH 2019. I'd like to thank them again for bidding and for allowing me to write this fic for them! It was super cool to explore Soren and Claudia's childhood, why/how they might be the way that they are, and the side effects of magic. Thanks again, Prim!
> 
> This fic contains certain interpretations of characters, their history, and magic that may turn out to be non-canonical, and has some minor elements of universe alteration (especially near the end). I'm very much enjoying the consequences of the magic Viren and Claudia use so far, so I ran with it for this fic. Soren and Claudia resurrect some choice A:TLA feelings with their being "talented siblings raised by a very busy single parent who has impressed on them a potentially dangerous sense of responsibility". It really did surprise me when I finished the first season and learned how _young_ Soren and Claudia are; I thought they were older. 
> 
> Everyone is TDP is so young. Please let them rest.

The first time that Soren holds a real sword in his hands feels like the beginning of the rest of his life. Well, alright, the first time that he holds a real sword that someone _gave_ to him - to use and keep and look after - feels like the beginning of the rest of his life.

He’s totally held swords before then. He just got in trouble for swinging them around without supervision and accidentally nicking them and, uh, maybe also taking them without the owner’s permission. So, his feelings then ran more along the lines of: silently excited, super guilty, and this one time slightly bleeding-y because he had no way of knowing how sharp that sword was.

But the first time that Soren holds a real sword in his hands, given to him with his parents’ permission, with the knowledge that this sword is _his_ sword? His sword to use and keep and look after? His sword with which to preserve honour and duty and all that stuff? To the kid that he is, it feels like being given everything he’s ever wanted. It feels like this is where his life as a warrior really begins. It feels like holding the beginning of the rest of his life.

He’s always been more of a runner than a reader. He could never spend his days sitting still and making sense of all those magic books - not when the words wobbled on the page and his leg bounced out of his control. Magic is flashy and fun, sure, but it’s also freaky, and Soren likes moving way more than long sessions in the library or listening to his dad’s lectures. Swinging his training blade around has never made him feel dull or useless or lousy, even when he’s made to run so hard that his legs might fall off and he wants to puke.

But, like, good puke? It’s a good puke feeling. Sure, sometimes his limbs are burning so badly it feels like they’re going to fall off, or it feels like he’s going to break his own ribs from the force of his wheezing, or he actually can’t move his own aching fingers. But even when he’s so exhausted that he kind of wants to die, he feels _accomplished._ That is a _warrior’s_ puke on the dirt there. It’s solid (well, liquid-y) proof that he’s willing to do whatever it takes and that he’s giving his training everything he has. It’s proof that he’s worthy. That he’s a good, faithful soldier and a good, loyal son who won’t hesitate to do his duty.

There’s a lot being said by that puke. Soren is always giving one-hundred-and-ten percent and nothing less! Dad always says there’s pretty much no point in doing something if you’re not the best at it and being the best means having to work the hardest. Soren isn’t good at magic, but he _is_ good at this. He’s going to be the best at it someday.

He’s tried to explain the “good puke” feeling to Claudia, but she laughingly says that he’s super gross and also probably crazy to feel that way about exercise of all things. She’s not very interested in his training. It’s boring to her because she actually likes studying magic with Dad.

She leaves him in the _dust_ when it comes to magic, honestly. Soren already spent most of his time having no clue what Claudia and Dad are talking about, but it’s been getting even worse since their learning went their different ways.

But Soren is pretty sure she spends so much time with her nose in books that she’ll get her face stuck that way - and she’s totally missing out on the wonder of a warrior’s high! She says that magic is way harder than swinging a sword, but she’ll be singing a different tune when she needs a knight in shining armour someday! Katolis wouldn’t have soldiers if it didn’t need them. King Harrow and Queen Sarai are some of the best warriors in Katolis, neither one of them is a mage, and _everyone_ looks up to them!

Claudia and Dad are going to need Soren’s sword someday in the future (or at least they’ll need his super buff arms to carry around all their wordy books). When that day comes, after his training, Soren will be the best sword that Katolis has ever seen.

His sister cheers the loudest for him the first time he demonstrates his progress for his parents, her books completely forgotten. It’s a real bout on the training grounds, under his teacher’s strict eye, with practice weapons and not real swords yet, but it’s still far more than playing war with a toy sword and enemies made of air. Soren beams with pride at Claudia and at their parents after he wins. His parents smile back and he smiles even wider, until it hurts, because this is only the beginning for him, he can feel it.

Dad ruffles his hair and only looks amused when his hand comes away dusty. “My brave little warrior,” Dad says wryly.

 

~

 

Magic is the most wonderful thing in the world. Claudia feels like the luckiest little girl in the world to be able to study magic alongside her father, who is the best mage in the Five Kingdoms. Magic can do anything! Magic can do _everything!_ The day that Dad tells her that she gets to be a mage - a real mage - feels like the very best day of her life.

“I will demand your utmost dedication,” Dad tells her, but he’s smiling down at her as she hops from foot to foot. “Magic isn’t easy. It doesn’t come without a price. You will have to study hard before you can even cast your first spell. We humans aren’t born connected to a Primal Source.”

“That’s not fair!” Claudia declares.

“No, it’s not,” Dad agrees. “We have to _work_ for our magic. We _earn_ it.”

“I can earn it! I’ll work hard! I’ll be the best mage ever someday, just like you!” Claudia attaches herself to his legs and beams up at her father, who laughs and ruffles her hair fondly.

“I know you will.”

Claudia throws herself into her studies, following at her father’s heels to watch every spell he’ll let her see. She reads books where she doesn’t know half the words and excitedly repeats most of them only to have her pronunciation corrected. She reads late into the night until her head hurts and her eyes hurt and even her fingers hurt from holding the books too tightly. She taps her jittery toes until her feet hurt with it and she.absentmindedly tugs her hair while playing with it until her _hair_ hurts.

But Dad only compliments her focus in one breath and sends her to bed in the next.

“I’m ready to cast spells _now,”_ Claudia complains to Soren.

“Just because I can hold an axe doesn’t mean I can use one,” Soren answers unhelpfully. “Maybe Dad just doesn’t want you to chop off your own fingers by accident.”

Claudia scoffs. “It’s _magic!_ That doesn’t happen with magic!”

Soren is so silly sometimes! And he’s not nearly so excited about magic as he should be, Claudia thinks. She tells him nearly every interesting thing she learns and he acts excited for her, but it’s like it all goes in one ear and then right out the other! Magic can do anything at all, but still Soren likes hitting things with sticks and playing hero, as if heroes only ever need to hit things with sticks to save the kingdom! Soren acts like he’ll _die_ if he has to spend the rest of his days inside and reading, or even just one afternoon.

He also squirms when Claudia talks to him about bugs and bones and anything to do with the parts of magical creatures! Fart jokes and burp contests are totally fine, but start talking about creepy-crawlies and Soren might actually start to turn a little green! You’d think a big, strong warrior-in-training would be used to a little bit of grossness!

At least Soren looks a little envious when Claudia _finally_ gets to cast her first spell.

She doesn’t get to cast it alone. Dad is there, crouched down at her back and with his arms around her, holding the Primal Stone that will be her source for the spell. The Primal Stone is nearly out of magic and it never had that much to begin with. All sorts of people have been all worried that Claudia won’t be able to handle it because she’s too young - even the _king_ when he heard about it - but Dad insisted that A) how he raises his children isn’t any of their business and B) he’d considered the matter very carefully.

This is perfect, Dad is sure, for a little girl looking to wet her toes in magic for the first time. This is perfect, Dad said to people, for _his_ daughter.

Claudia puts her hand on top of the Primal Stone in her father’s palm, then retracts it in surprise. Dad brought it up from storage in the dungeons, which are super chilly, and removed it from a dark case, but the Stone still feels like it’s been sitting in the hot summer sun for hours. Claudia carefully and wondrously puts her hand back, feeling the heat under her fingers.

“Ready, Claudia?” Dad murmurs.

Claudia lifts her chin in determination. “Ready.”

She takes a deep breath and focuses, and then traces the symbol she practiced so many times that she made her shoulder hurt with it, and breathes the old word she practiced so many times that she thought she might lose her voice with it. But even with all her practice, she shakes.

The magic moving through her is too much and everything and not enough.

It feels like the first glimpse of the sun in sunrise, when the direct light of it finally leaps over the horizon and throws its painful spears into her eyes; or like squinting into the noon sun until her eyes water. It feels like the insistent press of sunlight against her skin, after too long outside on a sunny day; like that insidiously happy heat that slowly burns everything it touches and will have her peeling off red skin later. It feels like staying too close to a fire. Like she’s a pot about to boil over.

“Steady,” her dad whispers, and lifts her arm higher.

Claudia concentrates, even though it feels like she might be melting, and the hot magic rushes down her hand and becomes _light._ It leaves her so quickly that her bones ache with cold and her skin goosebumps. But… at the end of it… in Claudia’s hand, hot and brilliant and unbearable, sits a little piece of sun.

Claudia laughs disbelievingly. “I did it!”

“Very good,” Dad says at her back, and he sounds so _proud._ “Now… control it. Hold it tightly and don’t let it get away from you. Casting the spell is only the beginning of it.”

Dad guides her through controlling the brightness of the flare, then with extinguishing it. When the little sun goes out, it feels like Claudia flickers out with it and she sags back against her father. She feels… burnt out… and giggles with the strange sensation.

Dad calls Soren over to help Claudia to a chair so that he can put the Primal Stone away.

“Are you alright?” Soren demands, rushing forward to follow Dad’s orders. His hands feel like pins and needles on her, as he holds her up. “How did that feel? It looked _so cool,_ Claudia! It looked like you were holding _fire!”_

Claudia just giggles at him. Her fingers are red like she just touched fire, but she’s so _cold;_ she’s sweating and shivering at the same time, and she thinks she’s going to be sick. Then she _is_ sick. Claudia doubles over and vomits all over her brother’s boots. It feels like she’s trying to throw up a sunburn and her eyes water with it, but then she bursts out laughing at Soren’s stunned, disgusted face.

“Claudia! Oh, that’s so _gross!”_

“Soren… Hey, Soren...” She leans heavily on him and confides in a too loud whisper, “Soren… I get the ‘good puke’ feeling now.”

Soren blinks, then smiles in a surprised sort of way, before he winces again at the squish under his boots. “Did you have to get it all over me too?” he demands, before he looks across the workroom and immediately tattles on her. “DAAAAAD! CLAUDIA THREW UP!”

Their father finishes putting away the Primal Stone, pinches the bridge of his nose, and sighs.

Claudia shoves at her brother. “Tattletale!”

“What?! Who else is here to throw up on my boots? Me?!”

He’s messing up her _moment._ Claudia’s brain is still buzzing and Dad is coming back over and the puke is still there. She doesn’t want to get in _trouble._ Claudia’s eyes start watering really fiercely, her stomach turns again, and her reddened fingers itch painfully.

“Oh, no,” Soren says knowingly.

Claudia bursts into tears. Great, wet, headache-y sobs of shame that she can’t stop.

“Oh, Claudia,” Dad says, rubbing a comforting hand along her shoulders, before he bends his knees and lifts her into his arms. It takes more effort than it used to, but Claudia clings to him in the same way. “Let’s get you cleaned up. It’s a little overwhelming the first time, isn’t it? My clever little mage.”

 

~

 

One of Soren’s earliest family memories is of Claudia squashing ants at a picnic. They were pretty small at the time. It was years before either of them had started their real training, but Soren remembers it pretty well. Family picnics aren’t very common for them and they became even less common once their mother… wasn’t with them anymore.

This is what he remembers:

Claudia was squishing these magic ants and Dad, who’d been collecting them for his work, found her stomping amusing. The magic ants were common enough - plenty of the little creepy-crawlies to go around - that Dad’s spells didn’t depend on nosy children not squishing them before he could squish them himself. Claudia didn’t have to worry about getting yelled at for taking an interest in magic, so she could stomp on ants, wave her arms around, and pretend to be casting spells with their magic as much as she liked.

Dad was smiling at her, Soren remembers. They’re not making many family memories nowadays where Dad is smiling at their silly playing. No, it’s almost always _work, work, work_ in their family now that Soren and Claudia can pull their weight.

Soren hadn’t joined her stomping. They were only _ants._ The little magic ants were only trying to do their jobs and collect food for their colony. Soren could defend their picnic from ants - which he did, most valiantly if he did say so himself - but he didn’t need to go out and stomp on innocent creatures for no reason. Being creepy and crawly wasn’t actually a crime. Going out to stomp on the ants would prevent them from attacking the picnic later, sure, but Soren felt badly about doing something like that.

He’d said as much to Claudia: that she was killing these animals and not even for being gross little thieves yet.

Personally, he’d rather fight off a bear or something. _That_ would be impressive. Oh, or maybe they could pretend that the ants were sneaky elves in disguise or something! That’d be so much more awesome. It’d be different if they were hunting for food, but they weren’t going to eat ants, and who wanted to fight something that couldn’t fight back fairly?

Claudia had stopped her stomping then, as though it hadn’t occurred to her before just then that the ants underneath her boots were real, living creatures, even if they weren’t “cute”. Claudia looked down at her feet, her eyes going wide, and then she threw back her head and burst into great, wailing sobs at what she’d done.

Dad had been unimpressed with them both for interrupting his work (if anyone asked who would _work_ during a family picnic, the answer was Soren’s dad). But Dad had been especially unimpressed with Soren for “unnecessarily upsetting his sister with maudlin notions”.

Or something.

Soren remembers that picnic because he always remembers Dad being unhappy with him, but especially because of how delighted Claudia had been with herself until she’d suddenly realized what exactly she was doing. Soren regrets that his younger self ever pointed it out.

Because they were only ants! Dad was right! They were only magic ants, practically made for mages to squish, and Soren totally agreed that Claudia could stomp on gross little creepy-crawlies if that made her happy. Soren has never not wanted to be happy! (Except when he’s mad at her about something, but that’s always been very fair and has never lasted very long.) But… still… Soren remembers his sister’s wide-eyed, chubby-cheeked horror… and how much she’d cried over all those innocent little magic ants later.

Soren remembers that old family picnic again now because Claudia’s studies have been going really well and Dad has slowly been introducing her to using creepier and… crawlier… sources of magic than special stones. Dad doesn’t push her, but Claudia wants to make Dad proud. So, Dad is super proud of her and Soren is, of course, super proud of her progress too. Claudia excitedly tells Soren all about her creepy studies, just like _he_ gets to happily tell her all about his “knuckle-headed training” in turn. So, Soren gets to be proud and hear all about Claudia’s new experiences and opinions on crushing innocent little magic ants.

“I mean, it’s not like insects really have _feelings,_ right?” Claudia is saying, her fingers still twitching randomly with the aftershocks of whatever magic she was working today, sprawled over Soren’s bed while he goes through his evening workout. “Not like people have feelings. Bugs just crawl around being bugs, right? They don’t have, like, _real_ feelings.”

Soren grunts from where he’s doing push-ups on the floor. “It’s a good thing you came to me: expert on bug feelings,” he says. “I can confirm for you that bugs don’t feel any emotions… except love.”

Claudia’s leg drops off the bed; she plants her foot on his back and tries to push him back down to the floor. Soren laughs, even though it sends a twinge of pain through one of his arms, and keeps doing push-ups with his new handicap. A true warrior always finishes what he started and true warriors don’t let their whiny, book-obsessed mage sisters push them around. At least she’s not snoring, drooling, and/or having nightmares on his bed again.

“Bugs don’t fall in love! Did you know that there are flies that live for less than a day?” Claudia says. “Really! There are bugs that live for less than a day! Or only live for a week or a month! We’re using these animals for important spells - spells that _help_ people - and they might have only lived for a few days afterward! It’s a worthy cause! Aren’t the people of Katolis much more important than a bug or a fish… or even a bird or something! Way more important!”

 _She sounds like Dad,_ Soren thinks with an amused huff, before he grimaces at a last push-up that seems to take twice as much effort. Well, just one more. Just one more and then he’s done. He can do it. He can push himself; he’s not going to let anything stop him from finishing his usual routine. No one wants a soldier or servant who can’t keep up.

_Ugh, now I sound like Dad._

Soren goes up for his last push-up at the same time that Claudia scoots off the bed and tries to use his back like a stepping stone. They’ve done that before, many times, and Soren has an admitted goal that someday he’d like to basically be able to do his whole exercise routine while carrying his sister.

Today is not that day.

“So, I don’t have to feel bad about it, right, Soren? They’re just bugs and- WHOA!”

Soren’s injured arm gives out underneath him, he falls to the floor and all the air goes whooshing out of him, and Claudia goes flying off him. She stumbles a few steps across the room, then looks back at him with wide eyes. Soren can’t quite pick himself off the floor before she’s on top of him again… or hide the bandage of his arm again in time.

“Soren, you idiot!” Claudia snaps, grabbing his arm for her inspection. “Why didn’t you say you’d gotten injured in training again? Why are you even working out if you’re hurt?! You know that doesn’t make you better faster, right? I know you hate sitting still for anything, but _really?!_ You couldn’t give it a rest for one night?”

Soren rolls over, still wheezing a little. “Yeah, because you’re waaay too smart to study when you’re so sick with magic that you can’t see straight,” he counters unhappily, pulling his arm back. “It’s just a scratch. A flesh wound! I could’ve powered through if you hadn’t tried to _stand_ on my back!”

Claudia frowns, then hides her twitchy fingers. “I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known you were hurt,” she mutters, backing off so he can sit up. “I should tell the healers on you… or Dad on you.”

“Dad would just tell you it’s only a flesh wound too,” Soren insists.

He really doesn’t want to hear Dad’s lecture on boneheaded-ness again, if Dad catches him too sick or injured for training. Their dad is, like, the absolute _best_ at powering through weakness for the sake of duty and responsibilities and all that - Titan’s Heart famine, anyone? Soren doesn’t want to disappoint. Their family has no patience for laziness or people who don’t make themselves useful.

Soren rolls himself up to his feet and then holds out a hand (the one not belonging to his injured arm) to help Claudia up. She reluctantly takes it and he pulls her to her feet. His arms might ache from a long day, but it doesn’t take that much effort, because his sister weights pretty much nothing. Not that Soren would give up even if it did take a stupid amount of effort to lug Claudia up to her feet again, on principle.

“...Couldn’t you have at least made today ‘Leg Day’ or something?” Claudia demands.

Soren laughs. “Yeah, probably should’ve done that,” he agrees, shaking out and stretching his arms. He supposes that he can count that as a workout finished and get started on making sure he’ll be able to move again in the morning. “It’s fine, Claude, don’t worry about it. I heal fast. I’ve got training again in the morning and I can’t miss it. Dad would kill me.”

“He might kill you if you make yourself useless by being stupid too.”

“Then my dying words are going to be about how my sister stays up _waaaaay_ too late reading and looking for the next way to make herself feel the good puke.”

“That is _not_ what I’m doing!”

Soren just laughs at her, because yeah, right, like Claudia honestly has any room to talk. She’s probably even worse than him.

He manages to shove his sister out the door and put himself to bed soon enough. His everything hurts when he drags himself to training the next morning, as a good, steady soldier does, but it’s nothing Soren hasn’t powered through before.

Their family knows that being the best means hard work - it means pushing yourself to your limits and then pushing past them - and Soren has to work twice as hard not to be left behind by his magical sister and father. Dad sets a strict example in his work ethic and they follow to make him proud. Soren and Claudia are expected to be the best someday and serve Katolis just like Dad, and being the best means a little bit of pain for gain. It means one-hundred-and-ten percent effort. It means sacrifices.

 

~

 

One of Claudia’s worst memories is the day their father nearly died, especially because it wasn’t just one day. Dad nearly died twice. They had spent weeks not knowing if Dad would live or die. She doesn’t like to remember that time, but she can’t exactly forget it.

It had been such a shock. A desperately needed wake-up call.

It was the year of the famine.

All of Katolis had been tense and unhappy with the oncoming hard times. Their father hadn’t hidden the tragedy from them and the entire castle had whispered with every new development of the looming disaster. Everyone had known that either the queendom of Duren would starve or that half of Katolis would starve with half of Duren.

As the children of the king’s most trusted advisor and beloved friend, their family would always be fed, but neither Claudia nor Soren had been raised to take the suffering of the kingdom and its people well. As King Harrow’s advisor and the greatest mage in Katolis, their father had taken his own inability to quickly produce a miracle personally, and Claudia and Soren had felt the way the failure had weighed him down. The shame and fear had been indescribable. Their family has always been dedicated to the greater good of Katolis; they have always been useful, always been loyal, always been crucial.

They’re not _allowed_ to fail. Terrible things happen to all of Katolis when they do.

The High Council? _Ha!_ They’re useless.

Claudia had thought before then that her father could do anything with but a wave of his hand. She remembers the slow, painful realization that perhaps their father and his wonderful magic couldn’t solve everything. Magic always has a price. Power had to come from somewhere. They were willing to pay anything, but everything that they had just hadn’t been _enough._

What did you do when everything you had just wasn’t enough?

Claudia and Soren had spent exhausting weeks dutifully acting as their father’s errand-runners, fetching for him without question anyone and everyone, anything and everything, asked for as he desperately searched for answers for his king. Soren had done most of the running, while Claudia had helped look after failed experiment after failed experiment. It’s all a blur in Claudia’s memory, really, until the moment where Claudia and Soren had been drawing straws over who would go beg King Harrow to come make their father _sleep_ (which wasn’t something you asked of a _king,_ but they had been young and desperate), then Dad had stood up suddenly, shouting that he’d found the answers to everything.

Arguments had followed, between Dad and King Harrow, between Dad and Queen Sarai, and between King Harrow and Queen Sarai about what lines were worth crossing when lives were on the line. Claudia and Soren had been sworn to secrecy when caught eavesdropping, because kings and queens and most trusted advisors couldn’t be seen shouting at each other and disagreeing so stridently when they presented their decision to the High Council. But, in the end, their father’s miracle had been accepted as the only way of saving everyone.

Claudia remembers being so proud that their father had saved the kingdom, at first, with the discovery of the Titan’s Heart spell. Her dad was a _hero._ She remembers watching Dad march off in the company of King Harrow, Queen Sarai, and the Queens of Duren, and being so desperately proud to be Lord Viren’s daughter.

She remembers that, if only because she remembers just how long and hard she fell into fear again.

Their father and King Harrow had come home with the Titan’s Heart, but Queen Sarai hadn’t, and the Queens of Duren hadn’t. Dad had looked as though he’d watched them all die. Dad had looked like he’d nearly died himself, but he also had the grim determination of someone whose work was far from done.

Dad had ordered the Titan’s Heart to his workroom and Claudia out of it, declaring that she was far too young to be involved in such intense, important magic.

“I can help, though,” Claudia had insisted.

“No. I’m the _only one_ who can do this, Claudia. I’m the only one who’s delved deep enough into magic to perform this spell with any chance of success,” Dad had said firmly. “I could never let you be a part of this; you’re far too young. Stay with your brother and stay _out_ of this.”

Claudia had begged and bargained and stomped her feet, but Dad’s word was final, so she had stomped off to find Soren. They had sat quietly together in their father’s chambers, having commandeered his bed in his absence. Claudia had been pouting. Soren had been relieved. They hadn’t known how to talk yet about the people who hadn’t come home - how to even think about Queen Sarai, the Queens of Duren, and every soldier who hadn’t marched on back - so they hadn’t talked about it.

Their Dad had come home and that was what was important to them.

They hadn’t known then that being successful also meant surviving the spell. Claudia should have known there was a higher price. Casting the spell is only ever the beginning of it. _“Magic is just as dangerous as any beast it comes from,”_ their father often says, and Dad is always right.

Dad was the only person willing to perform the spell in all of Katolis and Duren, because he had been the only person to have developed the resistance and strength of will to tame the Titan’s Heart. The king and all the High Council couldn’t do anything. Claudia had never seen her father so much as _stumble_ after a spell before then - Dad had always seemed _invincible_ \- but the magic of saving two kingdoms from famine had nearly killed him.

Magic could do everything, she learned, if you were really willing to give up anything.

Dad had been bedridden for weeks; it had been days before they’d even been able to see him afterwards. People had told them that it had been a victory, but all their faces had been long and tight. People had told them that everything was going to be alright, while the healers came urgently in and out of their father’s reclaimed chambers. People had told them that their father was a hero, even High Council members who didn’t like them or their father, in the same sad voice that they said the three dead queens were heroes.

Yeah, so Claudia and Soren had both been pretty sure at the time that Dad was dying.

Not that they’d _said_ it, but… the thought had been there.

Hanging in the air around them.

Claudia remembers lingering outside their father’s chambers, having been promised that they might visit Dad soon, pressing her ear to the door to overhear the adult conversation inside. People had told them plenty, but Claudia had learned quickly in her short life that Dad was the only adult who took them even halfway seriously and that the only way to hear anything _worth_ listening to was to eavesdrop. How else were children supposed to keep up with what was really happening in the castle?

 _“-weakness, partial paralysis on one side of the body, an inability to follow or participate in conversations! All on top of the most severe spell sickness I have ever seen!”_ the attending healer had been saying, her voice growing louder. _“If I didn’t know exactly what he’d done to himself, I might have suspected that he had suffered a stroke, your Majesty-!”_

The door had opened then, sending an unprepared Claudia and Soren sprawling at the feet of the attending healer and the King of Katolis. Claudia remembers how the healer had squawked indignantly, for she had been shooing them off for days. Claudia remembers opening her mouth to speak an excuse she hadn’t yet invented or to demand entry, because she remembered that she couldn’t lie or make demands of the _king._ She wasn’t _Dad._

But then King Harrow had bent down to help them to their feet. As though it was a perfectly ordinary thing for a king to assist the children of his subjects. King Harrow’s hand had been large and callused, but also warm and gentle as he pulled them up.

The healer had spoken first. “I have told you that I will call for you when your father is fit to-”

King Harrow’s hand had snapped up and the healer cut off immediately. Claudia’s father could do that: hold up a hand like he was stealing someone’s voice out of their throat, before he cut them down to size and made them listen to him. But not with the same command and not without any magic to him whatsoever.

“It seems unnecessary to keep them surrounded by uncertainties,” King Harrow had said, before had turned to address them. “In time, your father is expected to recover. What he has done for this kingdom will not be forgotten, but for now what he requires most is rest.”

“Dad doesn’t like resting,” Claudia had said, almost reflexively.

Claudia remembers how drawn the king had looked. How sad. His wife had just died, she had remembered in that dreadful moment; the beloved Queen Sarai was dead. But at her thoughtless words, King Harrow had chuckled softly and looked less like the distant ruler of Katolis, for a moment, and more like the man who fondly claimed her father as his best friend.

“No,” King Harrow had agreed. “But Lord Viren must rest if the king commands it; and I am the king and I command it. As I have duties to which I must attend, such as the distribution of a miracle, I must leave the oversight of your father’s recovery to our healers and the oversight of his resting to you.”

Both Claudia and Soren had stood a little straighter, being given a responsibility by the king.

“Yes, your Majesty,” they had said.

King Harrow had smiled at them one last time, then he had left.

Duty didn’t stop even for tragedy. Katolis and Duren went on even if the people who ran them stopped. On the order of their grim-faced king, the attending healer had finally let Claudia and Soren in to see their father, so long as they remained respectfully quiet.

Dad lived, obviously, but… Claudia remembers the way Dad had looked when they’d finally been allowed in to see him. He’d supposedly been out of danger, but… Soren had said that it looked like Dad had spent his own heart in that spell, rather than the Titan’s. Their father had been conscious, when they had finally seen him again, but his voice had been an unintelligible murmur and his eyes had been unfocused. He wasn’t himself at all.

Claudia and Soren had each held one of his hands until his weak grip went as slack as his face, and he fell back asleep. They had stayed there for an indeterminable amount of time, holding on anyway, as though they could keep Dad with them if they only held on tight enough.

All Claudia could think about in that moment was: who was going to hold their family together without Dad? Even after their mother had left them, Claudia had never worried about it, because they’d had Dad and their father could do anything and everything, but… Dad was doing it all on his own… paying such _high_ prices all on his own. Dad couldn’t actually do everything at once. He could have died, and then what would Claudia and Soren have done?

“I should’ve been there to help him,” Claudia whispered.

“Hm?” Soren looked up. “Claudia, did you say something?”

Claudia laughed. “No, I didn’t say anything! Did you say something? Maybe you were thinking about me saying something, Soren, because I didn’t say anything! Maybe it was you who said something and you forgot!”

“...What?” said Soren.

The realization that she should have been there to help Dad came with it another realization: that Soren couldn’t do it. Soren didn’t know anything about magic and had never cared to learn how to do magic. He acted first and thought later, if he thought at all, and there was only so much a sword could do while magic could do anything. Her silly brother couldn’t bear the “dishonourable” exchanges that magic demanded and couldn’t help Dad the way that Claudia could. Soren couldn’t be the one to hold the family together.

It was going to have to be her who looked after their family, Claudia realized. Their mother and all her love was already gone. There was no one else to hold them all together.

There _is_ no one else still.

 

~

 

Soren is a terrible patient. He can’t sit still to save his life and hates being away from his training and his work. Guard shifts have regular rotations designed to maintain focus, _Claudia,_ and there’s only so much reading in bed a guy can take before the words just start oozing right back out of his brain. If it’s a head injury, he’s not even allowed to read poetry he barely understands, he just has to lie there and be miserable.

However, no one can say that Soren is the worst patient of all time. No, being an awful patient of the healers runs in the family and, as is his usual being the best at almost everything in their family, Dad is indisputably the absolute worst at being bedridden.

The only person who can order the king’s most trusted advisor around is the king. But Dad, being the king’s most trusted advisor and right-hand man and best friend, sometimes boldly takes King Harrow’s orders as “totally optional suggestions”. Sometimes, Soren could _swear,_ Dad is like _this close_ to getting his butt thrown in the dungeon. Soren would probably be worried if King Harrow had ever followed through on that threat, if the High Council had that kind of power, or if Soren didn’t spend a significant amount of time wanting to toss Claudia in the dungeons when she was being annoying.

Dad is unstoppable. Soren once said that their father wouldn’t admit to needing a hand even if he’d lost both of his arms, and Soren stands by that wholeheartedly.

At least after the Titan’s Heart spell, though he maintained it was _completely worth it,_ there was no way for Dad to pretend that he wasn’t suffering the worst spell sickness anyone had ever seen. Dad was temporarily stopped. Soren very clearly remembers that since Dad wasn’t allowed to work while being super sick, Dad was also suffering the worst _grumpiness_ ever seen. And if Dad was unhappy? Everyone else around him had to be unhappy too.

It’s almost a point of pride that Soren can keep smiling through pretty much everything and anything now, having a great deal of practice as a guard and dealing with his dad’s worst tempers. It’s the best practice Soren remembers, trying to lighten their bedridden father’s mood for the sake of the attending healer not losing her temper and killing Dad.

Soren doesn’t mind playing the fool, though it was a little easier to get away with it without people thinking he’s entirely brainless when he was young. Soren _is_ a bit of a fool and letting himself act a little empty-headed always seems to at least amuse Claudia, if not their _“I frown so much because I’m hoping my face will get stuck this way”_ father. He didn’t mind playing the fool for his father back then. It was a pretty good distraction for everyone.

“Why don’t elves have ten fingers?” Soren said, during one afternoon sitting next to their father’s bed and attempting to entertain him.

Dad didn’t answer, too busy scowling at the wall, probably plotting his escape. His mood was awful, but that was better than mood swings in Soren’s book. It was disappointing that Dad couldn’t even manage to look fond of their antics today, though.

“I don’t know,” Claudia said curiously from the other side of the bed, because she was the best sister. (Also his only sister, but that doesn’t matter, because he has the best sister of anyone’s sisters.) “Why don’t elves have ten fingers?”

“Because they _ate_ the extra ones!” Soren told her.

Out of the corner of Soren's eye, Dad looked like he was in physical pain.

“Oh, that’s _disgusting,”_ Claudia said, but she looked kind of delighted about it. “How would that work? Would they bite off their children’s extra fingers and toes when they’re young?”

Dad closed his eyes like the pain was getting worse.

“...Claudia, it’s a joke,” Soren said.

“Oh. I knew that.”

Sure, getting thrown repeatedly out of the room by their ill-tempered father for their dubiously successful attempts at lightening the mood wasn’t fun. It wasn’t fun getting called a “hopeless idiot” or “stupid child” in the heat of the moment when one of them brought Dad the wrong book or spell component. It wasn’t fun to be accused of being “lazy” and “smothering” and “simpering” and any number of things while trying to play healer for the grumpiest patient ever.

But the only other option at that point in time was leaving Dad to rest, miserable and alone and in pain, probably blaming himself for Queen Sarai’s death and the deaths of Duren’s queens. And Soren couldn’t have done that. If only because the attending healer would have finally lost it or Dad would have probably sneaked back to work the moment no one who couldn’t be scared off was watching him.

Soren was young, sure, but he’d been given a responsibility by the _king._

One day, he knew then very certainly, they’d be old enough and strong enough to help shoulder Dad’s burdens. In the meantime, Soren had decided he could do his part for the kingdom by doing his best to remind everyone to look on the bright side of life.

“Why do humans need two more fingers to their hands?” Soren asked, as he and Claudia wandered away from their father’s chambers together, with no intention of obeying their exile for more than a few hours. They’d be back in a day, tops.

“I don’t know. Why?” Claudia asked.

“To get the upper hand!”

Claudia snickered and Soren grinned at her, because he had so many of these.

“Hey, Claudia. Do you know why elves are so sneaky and evil?”

“Why?”

Soren leaned in close and whispered, “Because they’re naturally _underhanded.”_

Claudia shrieked with laughter.

They told jokes all the way down the hall and down the next three, until they were both gasping for air and had tears at the edges of their eyes. “Well, at least magic has one good thing going for it: every time you overdo it, you have to sit still and listen to all my jokes!” Soren said.

“Why don’t you like magic?” Claudia asked.

“I don’t know, Claude. Why?”

“No, Soren, it’s not a joke. I’m asking.”

“What?”

“I’m really asking why you don’t like magic,” Claudia said sincerely.

Soren hadn’t been at all prepared for this question. He’d never bothered to put his dislike into words before. He’d always been told in an indirect sort of way (and sometimes a very direct way) that he didn’t know enough about magic to have a decent opinion on it.

“Because magic can do _anything!_ Dad just saved _two_ kingdoms with magic!” Claudia said urgently, like she’d been holding on to this argument for ages, like she was repeating something someone else had said. “It’s a really powerful tool, but you’re always treating it like a bad thing to do two times the work in half the time! It can do anything, Soren! Why can’t you think of it like… like your sword?!”

Soren had stared at her, gaping.

Now that he’s older, and knows that all the hero’s glory he still dreams about is a little far-fetched, he has an answer for that sincere question:

Because Soren has never had to wrestle with his sword for control. Oh, your own weapon can always be taken by your enemy or used to your enemy’s advantage, but magic is a wild tool, and it doesn’t seem like something you can just put down at the end of the day. Magic gets inside you and it doesn’t seem to come out again. And who knows what it does in there once it’s gotten its claws in? Soren’s sword doesn’t try to _kill him from the inside out_ every time he tries to swing it.

But Soren had been pretty young then, without anything like wisdom, so he hadn’t said any of this or even thought any of it for Claudia. “I dunno,” he said to her finally, shrugging. “It’s too easy. I guess it just creeps me out.”

Claudia scowled. “That’s it? That’s so immature!”

“You’re immature,” Soren retorted.

Soren has since decided, after very belatedly coming up with his answer, that while he doesn’t know much about magic, he’s clearly the only one in the family with any real respect for how dangerous it is. Yeah, sometimes lines can and should be crossed for the right reasons, and sometimes terrible sacrifices must be made for the sake of victory. And _yes,_ magic has saved Katolis and Duren and is one of their greatest tools in the war against Xadia.  

But someone has to look out for Dad and Claudia, since they obviously aren’t going to look after themselves while they’re doing magic that can leave them weird and sick afterwards.

Soren hasn’t exactly enjoyed having to point out the steps over the line that any ordinary person would know are super creepy, but there’s not exactly anyone else to do the job. It’s got to be him to play hero and hold their family together, obviously, even as he struggles to keep from being left behind. Mom’s gone.

There’s no one else.

 

~

 

Sometimes all their years of training seem like a blur to Claudia, getting faster and faster, but never going by fast enough to really help Dad do anything important, like end the war for good or anything. Sometimes, Claudia looks at her Dad, with his back straight, his shoulders set back, and his chin held high, and she wonders if there’s something wrong with her. The work goes on and on, all the gruelling studies and dangerous spells, and it never seems to touch Dad the same way it does her.

Claudia feels every single day and the only thing that seems to set Dad back are miracles.

She says as much to Soren, who admits that when they were much younger, when he first started his training and Dad told him to push through discomfort, he threw a minor tantrum and stomped on Dad’s foot to see if the great Lord Viren could even feel pain. “There was a lot of cursing and I got in a lot of trouble,” Soren whispers, “so I think so.”

“Soren, that’s an awful test,” Claudia tells him, even though it’s pretty funny and rather… simply effective. “I’m not talking about _physical_ pain. I’m talking about…” She puts a hand on her chest and struggles to find the word for it. “You know what I mean!”

It’s not that she hasn’t seen Dad tired or sick or ill-tempered; she sees that often enough. Dad has hard limits, she knows that now, but those limits still seem so far beyond her own abilities. Her improvement as a mage feels unmarked in comparison to all her father’s magnificent accomplishments. When will she be able to work miracles with the magical hearts of Titans?

“Oh, yeah, I totally know what you mean,” Soren says unconvincingly.

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh.”

Claudia eyes her brother dubiously, then sighs. “How am I ever going to take Dad’s position someday if I spend the aftermath of every spell with the cold sweats and a headache?”

“Didn’t you hallucinate Glow Toads on the ceiling last time?” Soren asks.

“Shut up! That was months ago!”

“Barely a month ago,” Soren says, but he lets her have it. “Ugh, I know what you mean. I work three times harder than anyone else in this place and I’ve _still_ got people looking at me like, ‘Oh, that’s Lord Viren’s idiot son who only has a job because his dad says so.’ It’s the worst.”

That’s not what Claudia meant. She was talking about how her ability might never match her ambition, but she can totally agree that what he’s talking about is also the worst.

“All the responsibility and none of the respect,” she mutters.

Soren nods indignantly. “Ugh! ‘Yeah, I’m young! Yeah, my dad’s the king’s advisor! That doesn’t change the fact that I’ve got twice your sense of duty and three times your work ethic!’ Please! It’s not like I’m not there digging the holes next to the rest of them!”

“Or doing all of the most tedious dissection that Dad’s too _important_ to do.”

When she was younger, Claudia used to ask herself if bugs and invertebrates really had feelings - as in: real, meaningful thoughts and feelings. Not just hunger or other basic needs. Then it was: “Do fish have feelings?” and “Do birds have feelings?” Obviously, they could all feel pain and fear, but… was it like how people could feel pain? Did animals, whether creepy or cute, really feel _real_ pain? Real love? Did they love each other?

And then, at some point, Claudia asked herself: “Well, does it really matter all that much if they _do?”_ Now she mostly just asks herself: “Is it _worth_ it? Is what I’m about to do worth something’s life?” and “What would Dad do?” And the answer to the latter is always that Dad would do what was necessary for the good of Katolis, which is worth everything.

“But, Claudia, tedious dissections are ‘leeeeearning opportunities’,” Soren drawls.

Claudia cackles. “Yeah, if I hear that one more time, I’m going to puke, and it’s not going to be the good puke. No, don’t you dare say it! I see you! I _will_ aim for you!”

“I’ll just dodge with my excellent warrior reflexes! Besides, like that’ll be the grossest thing either of us have seen this week!” Soren says, then sighs. “Oh, the fun of being sorcerers and soldiers, huh? Dirty work all the way down and all the way up!”

“It’s more gory than glory,” Claudia jokes.

Soren laughs loudly. “Ha! More gory than glory! That’s a good one!”

“It’s true.”

“Yeah, it’s true! Oh, man, like Dad would let us take easy jobs if we ever wanted them.”

“...It’d be nice if he recognized that we don’t take the easy jobs more, though.”

“...Well… yeah…”

Dad believes in duty and drive, pretty much above all things, and he approves of constant improvement. Every time Claudia is working on a spell or sent on a quest for Dad, one that’s more than mundane grunt-work, she thinks: _maybe this time I’ll manage something brilliant and get Dad’s attention again._ It doesn’t happen nearly as often as she’d like these days.

It’s harder for Soren, though, probably. Claudia feels awful for her brother and his heroic dreams sometimes. They could both work themselves to the bone, which they pretty much do when they fall into an intense focus, but Dad is always going to be more impressed by spell-work than sword-work. No matter how good Soren gets, he’s… well, he’s never going to be good enough, is he? He’s always going to come up against Dad’s open, pragmatic, brutally honest insistence that one great mage is worth any dozen warriors.

Claudia still remembers Soren’s face the first time Dad so casually said that.

She remembers trying to talk to her brother about it afterwards.

 _“He’s right,”_ Soren told her with a what-can-you-do shrug. _“Dad’s always right.”_

And that was that.

She wishes, most of the time, that a small part of herself didn’t feel glad knowing she doesn’t have to compete with Soren. She doesn’t want to leave him behind and she doesn’t want Soren not to be accomplished - no, not at all! But she’s still… very glad that they have different specialities and that she’s the one who’s the mage like their father.

Soren doesn’t have it badly, though. He gets to interact with more people than she does and that’s good for him. Claudia feels jealous sometimes, when they’re walking the halls together and Soren can greet everyone they see by name. Soren has all his fellow soldiers to train with and sees the castle servants regularly while he’s on his “very important guard rotations”. He always has the better gossip and is actually friends with the people who are only ever just _friendly_ to his creepy mage sister.

Claudia is very privileged to be so deeply involved in Dad’s work. Not many people get even a glimpse of what their father is up to, while Claudia keeps as many secrets as he shares with her, and it can be… lonely work being a mage sometimes. She spends most of her days locked in long research projects unless she goes purposefully walking about.

“Why don’t you like Callum?” Claudia asks her brother one day, after observing Soren try to run the late queen’s son through some basic drills.

The healers say she needs more sunlight after her last spell and tattled to Dad, who promptly ordered her to eat more and go outside for her health, so she’s taken her books to the training yard to keep Soren company. She enjoys chatting with him. Also, this way, if her legs go jelly on her or if she feels faint, she can make her brother carry her back to her rooms by piggyback. Soren is heartier than an ox and often seems to like nothing better than throwing people around to prove how strong he is.

This training of Soren’s, for example, seems to involve Prince Callum hitting the dirt more often than not. Even when she was properly distracted by her books, from her bench, Claudia could still hear the regular thump and Soren’s vocal disapproval of Callum’s stance or footwork. Soren is shorter with and harsher on the boy than she would have expected.

Soren wipes his brow of sweat with a towel and glances towards their resident step-prince, who is currently across the yard and out of earshot of Claudia’s cruel-sounding question. Soren released Callum for a “short break” when Prince Ezran rolled into the yard, accompanied by his plump Glow Toad pet, the pair of them excessively covered in mud from some misadventure. Callum looks like he’s unsuccessfully trying to scold and get the story from his brother. Neither of them are paying attention to Claudia or Soren.

“Who says I don’t like Callum?” Soren says.

“Uh, you, when you talk to him,” Claudia answers. “You sound almost like _Dad.”_

Soren looks at her blankly, probably trying to decide whether that’s a compliment or an insult. Claudia looks blankly back at him, because she doesn’t know if it’s a compliment or an insult either. It’s just… really weird. She doesn’t know if it’s good weird or bad weird yet.

“He’s just… useless,” Soren says finally.

“Okay, now you really sound like Dad,” Claudia says. “That’s really harsh, Soren.”

“It’s not that I don’t like him as a person, Claude! He’s… fine. He’s kind of funny, I guess, and he’s got some wild ideas. He’s just not dedicated to learning any of this. He doesn’t _try._ He’s got his head in the clouds half the time.”

“Disrespect for the art of the blade,” Claudia tsks. “A very serious crime.”

Soren frowns at her, then gestures quickly across the yard, and whispers, “He should be taking it more seriously! Does he even listen to his other tutors? I mean, Dad says he’s probably going to be one of his brother’s closest advisors, and what does he even _do_ all day? Scribble in all those journals of his and maybe chase his brother around? He’s got no real responsibilities!”

“He’s… young. It’s not like Ezran has any real responsibilities either,” Claudia points out.

“Yeah, but he’s… little,” Soren says, measuring their future king’s current less-than-intimidating stature with a hand, then taking the hand up a bit to compensate for the big hair. “Callum’s not much younger than we are. He should be doing more than just… daydreaming! What sort of advice is he even going to give when he’s on the High Council? Drawing? _Painting?_ ”

“That could be useful someday,” Claudia argues playfully, and then laughs when Soren’s expression disagrees vehemently. “Oh, Callum might be soft, but he is nice, Soren.”

“Nice isn’t useful,” Soren quotes, and sighs again. “I don’t want to sound like Dad, but he’s right. Callum’s got to figure out what his role in this kingdom will be and start working seriously towards it, otherwise what’s he going to do when the war comes to Katolis? What’s he going to do when he’s the last line of defence for Ezran? With no skills and no real sense of duty? He’ll probably run at the first pointed ear he sees.”

Claudia grimaces, because she doesn’t like thinking about what the inevitable conflict will do to everyone in the castle. Callum is soft and Ezran is little; they’re neither of them prepared to help decide the fate of the kingdom.

She looks across the yard again. Ezran is waving his muddy arms wildly about as he tells his story, while Callum has his face in his hands and his shoulders shake with laughter. It’s a happy scene that she’s seen variations on dozens of times. She doesn’t want to ruin it with harsh reality, especially not when the scene plays out into a familiar ending.

King Harrow arrives on the scene, flanked by guards and courtiers still vying for his attention, including Claudia and Soren’s father. The king catches sight of his mud-covered heir and bursts out laughing. King Harrow dismisses his entourage without another word and approaches his sons, where Prince Ezran turns his dramatic narration on his indulgent father. Behind King Harrow, Lord Viren rolls his eyes and deftly leads the court away to continue work in the king’s place.

“Can you even imagine not having any real expectations of you?” Soren demands quietly, as they play audience for the king’s affection for his sons. “Besides the normal parental ‘don’t kill anyone’ and ‘don’t die’ expectations, I mean.”

“Hmm, not really,” Claudia admits.

Callum and Ezran are both loving sons and kind boys, but it’s true that they don’t have any significant duties or responsibilities. Discipline is… not their strong suit. Yet King Harrow honestly doesn’t seem to care that his sons aren’t useful to him or his kingdom. He sets them no tasks and no quests that Claudia can see.

For a man supposedly extremely wise, King Harrow isn’t being very pragmatic. He is by all reasonable standards setting his children up for failure. War is inevitable and _“Kindness doesn’t win wars,”_ their father might say, if he deigned to grant such a childish idea any of his attention. If Katolis shows Xadia any mercy, instead of taking the most devastating vengeance available to them, the monsters would walk all over them.

An eye for an eye is the only thing the savage elves will understand.

“I’d better just clean all this up. I don’t think the step-prince will want to demonstrate his warrior prowess… or that the king will actually ask him to,” Soren complains, dropping his towel around his neck and moving towards his equipment. “It’s so unfair.”

“Yeah,” Claudia says hoarsely.

But some part of her, beneath her hunger for recognition and for the exhilarating thrum of magic through her veins, thinks that there are probably worse things in the world to be than soft. She could never give up being a mage now, she aches for the rush of her next spell already, but she can still admire the good manners and mischief of the princes, both smiling up at their father.

They’re still young. King Harrow will be king for a long time to come.

 

~

 

Soren wouldn’t say it aloud, but… he sort of expected Claudia to leave him behind? Like… he wouldn’t have blamed her if she had left him behind? She had an important quest to fulfil from Dad - like _fate of the Five Kingdoms_ important - and Soren couldn’t move and Claudia doesn’t have the arm strength to pull him along in a cart (which would be stupid). So… Soren wouldn’t have been all that surprised is all he’s saying… if Claudia had chosen to be pragmatic and follow the princes into Xadia without him.

Not that Soren _wants_ Claudia to go alone into Xadia. That would be _so_ dangerous and she would probably die and he doesn’t want that. It’s just that Claudia has always seemed to leave him in the dust when it comes to making Dad proud.

They’ve been raised on a steady diet of duty; their family is in many ways the first and last line of defence for Katolis. A soldier who can’t move is a useless soldier. And a soldier who brings a dragon down on an innocent town and then fails to keep it contained… probably isn’t the sort of guy you want guarding your back. Just… being _practical_ about the situation… Claudia really should have left Soren behind and gone on by herself.

But Claudia came back for him instead.

Instead, Claudia used her magic to heal him, even at great cost to herself.

Oh, she can claim that she’s just fine. Soren’s sister can even say things that sort of blow his mind a little, like that she loves him and she’ll never _ever_ leave him behind. But… it’s like she thinks he’s an idiot… or like he hasn’t spent his entire life watching what magic does to the people who dare to use it.

Sure, maybe he’s not a healer and he doesn’t know all the official fancy names for the side effects of spells, but he is pretty sure that a sudden white streak in Claudia’s hair is pretty not good. That’s probably really not good, honestly.

Yeah, it’s nice to have his sister here tending to his injuries and getting him back on his feet, sleeping at his bedside, and determined to stick to his side and weather their father’s scary disappointment together. Soren is grateful, yes, but Soren can still be a little not happy to feel her shaking under his arm. He can be worried. Claudia looks like she hasn’t slept for a week and yet the healers keep waking her up and making her answer questions to check on her.

Soren really hopes that they don’t end up getting thrown out of here.

He can still hear the local healers arguing down the hall, which is… weird but useful. One of the healers refuses to have “such foul Dark magic” under their roof, while the other refuses to release two such obviously injured and foolish _children_ to fend for themselves, or whatever. It’s a familiar argument, as in: their family inspires it often. The argument-havers are thankfully getting nowhere really slowly.

Soren can hear a lot more than just an argument down the hall, actually, which is bad enough. The noise and the pain are making it really hard to nod off and get some of that much-needed rest. The people on the street are apparently shouting and stomping around really loudly. There are also birds in a nest outside the window that are driving him _nuts._ It feels like every time he closes his eyes, there’s another sudden noise making his ears flick up - not actually, since his ears can’t move, he just feels that way, like a figure-of-speech sort of thing - and his heart races in readiness to run from the potential danger.

Not that he’s in any state to do any running, even with Claudia’s healing.

His everything hurts. _So much._

What are they going to do now? Soren can get himself vertical and shuffle along, very painfully, but they’re not going to be going anywhere fast and the princes have a flying head-start. Unless Claudia wants to take them into Xadia, which would be _nuts_ with or without a cart _,_ their quest is failed. The only reasonable thing to do now is head back home, beg their dad to forgive them, and prepare for whatever inevitable disaster is going to hit them.

The Dragon Prince is back in Xadia and _Katolis doesn’t have a king._ In fact, it’s even worse than that! King Harrow is dead, the High Council _hates_ their father, and very soon Xadia is going to have the Dragon Prince and the new King of Katolis in their hands!

Nope, not panicking. _Not_ panicking. Soren is not panicking right now.

Claudia shifts restlessly in her sleep, as though she can sense exactly how much Soren doesn’t want to go home. Oh, Soren _will_ trudge home, because it’s his duty to serve Katolis however he’s able and he’s able again thanks to his sister, and he’ll face Dad’s intense disapproval and disappointment. Soren’s just not going to be happy about it. What Soren wants doesn’t ever come into it. He’s not one to shirk from his responsibilities, no matter how much he doesn’t want to follow through.

At least… until Dad told him to kill King Ezran.

Soren doesn’t want to think about that, but he can’t sleep and all his other options for what to think about are also awful. Surely Soren had misinterpreted something. Soren had thought Dad had implied something he definitely hadn’t implied, that had to be it. Dad would _never_ ask something so terrible and disloyal of them, right? Dad actually asked them to do something way less awful and… they failed that spectacularly too.

Soren doesn’t know how he’s going to come back from having resigned himself to being useless. _My dad’s going to be too busy to talk to me now,_ Soren had thought, lying paralyzed on this very bed, as he forced himself to make his peace with having lost his value as a warrior.

And Soren had been kind of… glad about that? Not really, but... trying to look for the bright side of things, Soren was glad-ish not to be useful anymore, in a way. He wasn’t happy about being unable to move for the rest of his life - having his entire identity and his future come unmoored hasn't been  _fun,_ but the immense devastation of losing everything he'd worked for hadn't really had time to set in deeply before Claudia swooped in and  _undid_ everything. No, Soren doesn't want to be paralyzed, but... being useless as a soldier meant that he wouldn’t have had to go on any more quests for Dad and wouldn't be able to make such big mistakes ever again. Soren wouldn’t have been able to bring dragons down on innocent towns anymore. Soren wouldn’t have been able to hurt the princes even accidentally. Soren wouldn’t even have been able to hurt himself, if he’d wanted to do something like that. 

Sure, there would have been no more running or jumping or dancing. No fighting. No more rush of accomplishment and ability running through him. No more competition and no more camaraderie. Being able to _move_ again was… incredible… a rush of feeling… it felt like being on top of the world before crashing back into the pain of injury. Soren is glad beyond words not to have lost all that, because it would have been a heavy price that probably only would have gotten heavier over time. 

But… there would have been no more gruelling work for a pinch of grudging recognition either. No more constant fear of never being enough. No sneaking around the High Council. No looking Dad in the eye with the striking realization that his father’s affection is potentially conditional, because he knows that it’s not his magical prowess or his sparkling intelligence that makes Dad proud. Soren would have known for certain where he stood with his father, so to speak. No more hard choices. 

And then it would have all just been… poetry… or something.

At least until the inevitable war came and Soren was completely useless. He wouldn't have been able to protect anyone without being able to move, so it's better for everyone that he’s better. Not being able to fulfill his purpose would have probably worn on him. It’s better for Katolis this way, totally.   

How is he supposed to face Dad, though, having resigned himself to failure? How does he come back from actually having to ask himself how much his dad actually cares about him? Soren can’t go home and say, _“Hey, Dad, I’m pretty sure you love me, but could you just reassure me for a second that it’s me you care about and not just what I can do for you? Also, you didn’t actually want me to kill the princes or anything, right? Because that would be totally nuts and not okay.”_

Soren could now, potentially, hunt the princes into Xadia and finish this task Dad forced on him (he’s so hurt, though, he would probably die).

The choice he didn’t want to make is back.

Does he follow his father or his king? Lord Viren or King Ezran? Which one of them knows what’s best for Katolis? Ezran is a _kid_ but he’s also _king_ and _ugh._ None of this makes any sense. Are Callum and Ezran the confused ones? Or are Soren and Claudia the ones who don’t know everything? Is it even Soren’s place to choose?

Trying to figure all this out is enough to make his head hurt. A headache on top of everything else feels like the last thing he needs; Soren doesn’t want to ask himself what he’ll do for love or duty anymore. He doesn’t want to think on what _Claudia_ will do for love either or about her new spell sickness. (Is it _Claudia’s_ place to choose? Should Soren just follow her?) His heartbeat is too quick right now, racing over too many things he can’t help; he needs to calm down.

Soren shifts the direction of his thoughts and attempts to think of nothing at all instead, which is something he’s always been spectacularly bad at if he doesn’t have something physical to focus on. He tries to let his brain drift above the fatigue and the pain - and for his efforts his brain drifts off somewhere entirely unfamiliar. Words fade out from his thoughts. Distant worries for the future become formless, without surrounding reminders to support them. Everything becomes…

_Smell._

_Taste._

_Movement._

_Sound._

He holds still, heart thrumming, and takes in everything that’s carried to him and tests it for danger. It’s too open here. It’s too closed off here. Every opening in this room is a potential entrance for a threat. Every hard wall is one less way to flee at the first wrong twitch.

Wind through the window. Warbling. Warbling. Voices and movement too close.

The rustle of leaves. Dust in sunlight.

Sharp, strong scents all around. Too sour. Too sweet. Sweat. Urine. Blood. The girl under his arm smells like rot - like dead things - like a dying thing.

Never-ending pain. Aches everywhere. He’s slow. Unsafe.

_Unsafeunsafeunsafe-_

Something is thrumming beneath his skin, like a second heartbeat. The strangeness of it brings words and Soren back to himself. And in the transfer, for a few seconds afterwards, Soren could swear that he feels every piece of himself, every unconscious, internal twitch and every burning spasm of something alien still at work. A trickle of fire up his spine. Every squelch and groan is so loud in his ears, but not nearly so deafening as the thunder of his frantic heart.

Then the creepy-crawly feeling fades and it’s just Soren again, in pain and deeply confused, staring at the ceiling with his heart still pounding.

Before recently, Soren thought you had to be asleep to have nightmares. What’s that thing that Dad and Claudia like to say? Casting the spell is only ever the beginning of it? Magic gets its insidious claws in under your skin and then who knows what will happen? If this is the beginning, Soren doesn’t know if he wants to see the rest of it.

But, hey, when did what Soren wants ever come into it? Little late to start now, right?

 

~

 

Claudia comes to suddenly and heavily. Someone is wheezing next to her in panicked fear and it only takes sitting up for her to see that it’s Soren. He looks up at her with wild eyes. His eyes go right and left, back and forth desperately. He’s panting like he can barely breathe, like there’s a great weight weighing him down. He’s not moving.

Claudia blinks back at him and then realizes with horror that Soren _can’t_ move.

Soren is paralyzed. Again.

Claudia screams.

It’s early, not even dawn, when the sun is still thinking about bobbing over the horizon, but Claudia’s screaming brings a healer running into their room. Claudia babbles, brushing white hair out of her face, while Soren’s eyes turn wildly, helplessly. Several of the soldiers who had accompanied them against the dragon peer into the room, before Claudia slams the door in their faces and screams at the young healer for answers.

She can’t have done it all for nothing! She’d never gone that far on her own before, but she weighed the price and then she paid it! The spell can’t have just _worn off!_

The healer tries to order Claudia away, but she won’t leave her brother behind for anything. The healer can’t find anything obviously wrong with Soren, which is just obviously so wrong, and then tries to pay attention to Claudia instead! As though Claudia is the one who needs a healer! Soren is paralyzed again! And this healer wants to make a big deal of some trembling and temperature spikes and unbalance and babbling? It’s just spell sickness and Claudia can handle that! Soren is _suffocating!_

By the time the senior healers of the house arrive, blurry-eyed and scowling and still in their nightgowns, Soren can move again. The soldiers who very much did _not_ want to help the healers contain Claudia but had felt obligated to hang around all flee gladly.

“It wasn’t permanent. It was _sleep paralysis,”_ one of the senior healers explains roughly, forcing Claudia to take a seat on the bedside stool with a no-nonsense shove. “A temporary loss of the ability to move or talk while waking up or falling asleep. Did you feel as though you had difficulty breathing, boy? Any strange sensations? Any difficulties moving now?”

Soren is sitting up on the bed and raises a hand for inspection; he looks pale and his breathing is still ragged around the edges. “Nope, I’m, ah, I’m good now,” he says, voice raw. “It kinda felt like there was something invisible sitting on me before? Holding me down and keeping me from breathing? Claude, you didn’t see any Moonshadow Elves hanging around, did you?”

Claudia puts her head between her knees. She’s sweating again and the room is spinning. There’s a tiredness that’s settled deep into her bones, making everything an _effort._ She almost wishes that all of this was just another daytime hallucination, except if she sees that deer’s eyes staring back at her again from her brother’s face, she _will_ break something. She barely slept at all last night with these _stupid_ healers poking fearfully at her every few hours.  

The healer makes a humming sound of agreement. “Some people feel that way: like there’s a malevolent presence in the room with them. It’s a very frightening but thankfully _temporary_ experience. Has it ever happened to you before?”

“...No, this was… new,” Soren answers.

“Ah,” the healer understands.

The healer examines Soren again, since everyone is awake now anyway, and declares Soren in the same state as after Claudia’s spell. Soren is in no state to fight another battle - no state at all to take on elves or dragons - but he’s not paralyzed. He can still feel all his limbs again, including all the pain. Claudia’s spell hasn’t worn off in the night or anything. Soren is fine.

Soren is _fine._

Claudia waves the healers away when they try to put their hands on her. The pain that comes and goes with serious spellcasting has come back again, but she also feels numb and empty. All Claudia needs to do is some more magic - just a small spell. A smaller spell after a big one can help deal with the spell sickness; another rushing high to pick her up will last her through the worst of this exhausted low.

It’s what Dad does. Everything Claudia knows about magic, she learned from the best.

The healers leave the room, closing the door behind them, not about to argue with the scary mage, and Claudia puts her head back between her knees. She almost can’t believe that she ever thought, even as a child, that their father didn’t suffer any lasting consequences from using magic. Even after the Titan’s Heart proved that he wasn’t really invincible, Claudia still thought the world of him.

Sometimes, she’s proud that Dad looked at her and thought she could master magic just like him. She’s proud that Dad looks at his little girl and thought: _Yes, she has what it takes to suffer this and stand strong._

Other times, she wonders what would have happened if he’d been honest and told her what magic cost from the beginning. If he’d told her that magic not only couldn’t do everything, but could never really do even _enough,_ and needed painful pushing every step of the way to do what was necessary.

"Claudia?" Soren says hesitantly.

 “I need to step out for just a second!” Claudia rasps, and hurries out of the room with her grip tight on whatever piece of furniture is there to keep her upright on the way out.

There’s no convenient bucket, so she falls on the nearest potted plant and throws up in that instead. Oh, she wishes so badly that her body hadn’t become convinced that spell sickness was a result of something she ate. At least throwing up makes her feel marginally better.

As she heaves for the second time, she hears footsteps coming up behind her and a trembling hand helps draw her hair back properly. It’s Soren, who shouldn’t be out of bed and couldn’t get out of it an hour ago. Claudia’s brother leans gingerly against a wall, a string of leather in hand, and when Claudia retches forward to throw up again, she can feel him tying her hair back. It’s not his tidiest job, he doesn’t bother with braids, and his fingers linger over the new white strands, but it’ll hold for now.

“This doesn’t look like the good puke, if you ask me,” Soren says hoarsely.

“Oh, shut up, Soren,” Claudia says miserably.

 Soren just rubs her back while she retches for a third time, supporting himself heavily against the wall. When Claudia glances up at him, he’s keeping watch on the ends of the hall. “Man, just like old times,” he says, almost cheerily with nerves, without looking down at her. “You can’t hide everything from me, Claude, you know that? Not everything. Only most things.”  

Claudia breathes in through her nose, then spits into the potted plant to get the taste of vomit out of her mouth, and stands firmly. She turns on her brother and says, “You shouldn’t be standing.”

“Probably not,” Soren agrees, and lets her puts herself under his arm so she can support him as they slowly make their way back to their room. He’s heavy, even though he’s clearly trying to keep most of his weight off her. “Sorry for freaking out earlier… with the sleep paralysis thing. I didn’t know that was a thing. Did you know that was a thing?”

“No.”

“Yeah, I… should’ve figured. Do you think it might… happen again?”

“I don’t know, Soren.”

Claudia helps her brother back onto the bed and sits down on the stool beside it. They’ll need to head back to the castle and their father soon, in all their spectacular failure, but Claudia feels that right now she can settle for her brother being all in one piece. That’s a victory. Soren is kind of an idiot, but he’s her idiot brother who loves her, makes her laugh, and needs looking after. If she makes it out of here with Soren, even if she fails at everything else, that will be enough. 

If her spell does wear off, if she has to keep casting it for him… well, firstly she needs to find a better spell that doesn’t make her feel like she’s been turned inside out, but… it would be necessary. Physicality is who Soren _is_ to the tips of his toes. So, she’d do it. She’d fix the spell and then fix her brother again. He’s worth it; Soren is worth crossing any number of lines. Their family doesn’t shy away from what’s necessary, even if it’s… creepy.

Yeah, Claudia will use Soren’s word for it here, rather than any of the others floating at the edges of her dizzied head. _Creepy._ Ugh, Soren sounds so immature sometimes. Creepy: like that can even begin to describe what magic demands.

Their Dad sets these weights on her brother’s shoulders when it’s obvious that Soren can’t handle all of them - at least not alone - at least not without her. How could Soren possibly inherit all of Dad’s work when he can’t or won’t describe magic in greater detail than _“creepy”?_ Soren would balk at the high prices that need to be paid sometimes. There are some burdens Claudia clearly has to take on both their behalves.

 She  _earned_ this. She can't give it all up now, after all that work. 

“Hey, Claudia, do you think we can grab some breakfast before we move out?” Soren asks after a while, in the exact same wheedling tone he uses for distracting Dad. “Because I am craving some milk-fruit right about now. I’ve been thinking about it all morning; no idea why.”

Claudia’s misery pops like a bubble and she bursts out laughing.

“...Claude?”

Her shoulders are shaking, at least. It hurts. She crosses her arms and puts them on the edge of the bed, then buries her face in them. Soren’s hand lands on her back again and he rubs up and down comfortingly, like he’s not going anywhere without her. He has no idea what she’s done and she has no idea what she’ll do, and she doesn’t know which is worse.

 

~

 

When Soren was younger, he had the thought that all this magic stuff with his sister would eventually get better. When Claudia was as good a mage as their invincible father, she wouldn’t suffer things like spell sickness anymore. She’d outstrip Soren in usefulness by miles, because it was already a struggle for Soren to hold on, much less keep up, but at least she wouldn’t be throwing up into random potted plants or out of windows anymore.

One day, Soren had been sure, he’d be the best warrior in Katolis and Claudia would be the best mage in Katolis, and then they’d both be invincible.

So, uh, turns out that was completely wrong. Magic only gets worse apparently.

Soren has no idea how to talk to her about it. Should he talk to her about it? They’re on the brink of real war with Xadia and they’ll need every scrap of power they can get, now that they’ve seen first-hand how infinitely more dangerous their enemies are than he ever imagined. He ought to just be grateful he can walk and swing a sword and be useful again, not get stuck on the _weirdest_ dream that he had last night that still has him half-convinced he has four legs for some reason.

Is magic supposed to make your senses so… sensitive? He really should ask Claudia.

They don’t talk about it.

The healers don’t want to let them go, but it’s not up to them. Soren doesn’t want to leave the dragon’s damage behind when it’s all his fault, but it’s not up to him either, which is probably a good thing since he got this innocent town attacked by a dragon and shouldn’t make any more bad decisions. Claudia has them pack up and is marching them home, and Soren can’t do much else but skittishly follow her. At least she’s taking them home instead of into Xadia, though there’s no way of telling what frightening place their faraway father will send them next.

Who will take up their failed quest in their place? No one, Soren hopes. He doesn’t want a second chance, but he should probably take it if offered for King Ezran’s sake. If lines must be crossed in the name of duty, it should probably be him to decide which ones need crossing - to decide when the sword doesn’t need to be swung. Because he could… fail again, if he must.

Those kids needs _rescue,_ not… anything else.

Soren picks up his sword to start the long walk home, because he’ll probably need it before they get there and he’ll definitely need it when they do get there. Having a sword in hand again makes him feel less vulnerable, at least; maybe now he’ll stop feeling like he needs to run off into the hills at every sudden noise and stranger who gets too close. He’s not being hunted, he tells himself, and even if he _was,_ he can fight back. He’s the _hunter._

Then Soren pauses. Just for a few seconds. Soren tests the weight of the weapon in his hand. It hasn’t changed since the last time he held this sword.

Soren is the one who’s changed, having taken a beating and a half, then a creepy spell, and now he feels like this moment is… well, the beginning of the rest of his life. This isn’t his first sword, which first gave him that sort of feeling. No, Soren outgrew that first blade years ago and this isn’t even his second sword to use and keep and look after. But it doesn’t matter that this isn’t his first sword, especially because this isn’t that exact same first feeling either.

It feels like holding the beginning of the rest of his life, but… it also feels like the rest of his life won’t be very long at this rate. Not very long at all, honestly, with the way things are going. When Soren wanted to be a warrior, he never actually wanted… war. Not real war. He’d had no idea what real war was when he was young.

Claudia won’t be able to put him back together all the time. Sooner or later, there won't be anything left to fix. And who’ll put Claudia back together when she overdoes it? Their bodies need to heal, to rest, but there’s no time for it in the inevitable war. Xadia will be coming for them. Picking up this sword feels like the beginning of the rest of a very finite thing; if Soren was at all smart, he’d put it down and walk away from it all. He’d run away and become a poet anyway.

He looks at Claudia, who looks tired. Who didn’t leave him behind.

Who loves him. No conditions.

Well, good thing that no one has ever accused him of being smart.

Soren sheaths his sword at his hip and limps over to his sister, who needs someone to look after her, so that she doesn’t spend herself in a spell too big for her. Dad won’t tell her to stop. No, Dad will probably make the both of them work twice as hard to make up for their incredible failure.

But if Soren is looking after his sister and Claudia is looking after him, maybe one of them won’t do half badly through all the uncertainties ahead. Maybe they won’t break beyond fixing in the war. Maybe if they work hard enough, they’ll win.

Maybe they’ll make it through get old someday. Wouldn’t that be something?

Claudia tucks herself under his arm again, supporting him even though she’s not strong enough to take his full weight right now. Well, at least Soren can grab her when she stumbles like this, though she’ll snap at him for helping her along probably. Either one of them will catch the other or they’ll both go down together, Soren thinks with weary satisfaction. They’ll hold for now.

They set off for home.

He hopes they get there, because he doesn’t know if they will. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Having a passion can be pretty cool. It can feel like the last puzzle piece sliding into place inside you to look at something and think, _"I want to do this for the rest of my life. I want to spend my life doing this."_ You just have to be careful about how you're "spending" your life. I feel like being raised by Viren could have given Soren and Claudia more ambition than they really know what to do with and fewer boundaries than they need to handle it safely. 
> 
> Again, I enjoy the magic in TDP, so I took it and ran with it for this fic while exploring potential/AU consequences and history for Soren and Claudia leading up to canon events. It's going to be really interesting to see how Season 3 goes from here. <3
> 
> \- [Reblog on Tumblr?](https://lullabyknell.tumblr.com/post/185400261393)
> 
> My 1st FTH 2019 fic can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18466207/). It's an HP fic starring Hermione Granger and Fleur Delacour, titled "The Splendid Gallery".


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